20th August 2011

10.50pm

Dear N.,

yesterday night I went to the so-called "Summer Party", an event the people here have been waiting for since Christmas (and I believe they've already started counting down the days). It's a glorious party thrown at the local springs, which ends with a everyone diving in before getting back home. Yeah, I was forced to splash myself, too. It was great, though, since after all that wine, I was incredibly hot and a bath was actually what I needed. Also the music was amazing! Some guys from the nearby villages were invited to play some rock music - they were fantastic!

So fantastic that when I stepped behind the scenes to congratulate them, they offered me some beer (German, not French. Eww, French beer! The thought hurts my brain!) and after some chit-chat, also handed me one of their guitars to slam. Yeah, I kinda told them I was into punk stuff and occasionally tried picking the strings or reading sheet music.

..Alright, I'm lying. I immediately revealed my one and only adoration for punk-rock bands and begged like there was no tomorrow to pull some strings. It'd been 20 days since I last caressed Eveline! You know I can't survive a month without my guitar! Poor Eveline... All alone in the dark... Once I get home, I'm gonna dance and sing and scream and roll and jump up and down, all around the room, till Daddy comes in and yells at me. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do!

Yet, the part where I actually got a guitar to play is true. A sky-eyed blonde named Francis offered me his own... He even tricked me into stepping on the stage! Just Francis and me in front of the crowd, can you imagine? Fortunately, Alice took some pictures with her mobile, or now I would not believe that really happened. By the way, I'm gonna print them and stick them to the notebook. I would've loved for you to be there, but do not worry! Once you feel better, we'll head to all the parties we find and celebrate together!

Now, I'm sure you've grown suspicious, though. You're right, I'd never tell you someone's name if it was not relevant, so... No, I'm not going to hide it from you any longer. Francis and I kissed. But it was all his fault!

We'd just left the stage and recieved everyone's compliments, when he asked if I was thirsty. Since he was also buying me a drink "as a way to thank me", I believed it would be rude of me to turn down his offer, so I stuck to him for a little while. As all the benches near the stands were occupied and I was starting to feel quite sick, we decided to go and search for a much quieter place just a few steps away from the party itself. Thus sat we under a secular oak.

I admit, I was (and still am) terribly mad at Alfred for not calling me - not even once! -, so I felt quite happy to have another man by my side. At the moment, it seemed like the fairest revenge. I now believe that is why I did not mind Francis' blooming accent at all. After all, it was so kind of him to keep me company and placing his jacket on my shoulders right after I said I was cold just made it better. What, I'd drank before that and so I could not possibly be cold? Well.. Maybe I wasn't cold at all and I just lied to get closer. Oh, alright! Since saying I was freezing my arse off when I was actually nuclear hot throws me on the guilty side of the street, I'm keeping the real fact for me. Better now?

And so we were next to each other, under a tree, in the shadows, till... Till I was in his arms, caressing his back as he worked his magic in my mouth. Do not blame me, it's his fault for offering me a drink! I bet he'd been waiting for that all evening.. Anyway, now we've got a problem. We, because till the problem is solved, I'll be spamming you with my love-sickness!

On the otherside of the riverbend, there's Francis. Francis, as you've seen in the pic, is tall, blonde, trim and got two blue magnets where he should have orbs. If we ignore his outrageous accent, we have a charming, mysterious, strong-willed hard-worker who has a job very similar to my Daddy's - Daddy actually thinks he's brighter than me... Why yes, Francis invited himself over this morning and ended up having dinner with us. I mean, WTF?

Let me explain what happened.. I'd just got out of the bathroom with a terrible headache drumming in my skull, when some idiotic tool knocked at the door. Of course, Daddy swore at the top of his lungs, since no-one expected any filthy jerk at 9.20 am (at least, not after a party lasting till 7 in the morning) and I had to go and get the door before Daddy decided to. He would've kicked that guy to death and we couldn't risk getting a bloody fine.

So, wearing my Scottish-patterned socks and my amazing blue pants with a 9-inch yellow shell on the "front" like a knight armour, I slammed the door open, I roared a "What the hell d'you want?" and guess who was there with a bunch of red roses in his hands?

"Eu... Bonjour, Arthur. Nice pants you have there.."

Me: "What are you-?"

Alice: "Daddy! Daddy! Artie's boyfriend brought him roses!"

It went pretty much like that. Add some grumbling, a squee and some roaring from my parents' bed and you have it. After Alice's declamation, Daddy sprung up like a mice-trap. He had such a face! You remember those sunglasses with exaggerated bouncing daft blue eyes they sold at Tesco? Exactly the same! Thank God (or whatever), Mommy immediately exclaimed "Arthur, put on some clothes and get the fuck out!", which actually saved me from some very hard explaination. Thank you, whoever is in the sky, for having given me such an irritable Mother!

As you can imagine, I was utterly frozen and being ordered something got me to move my arse. Getting back in the room would mean to face Daddy's bewildered rage, bear Alice's smug smirk and wait patiently for Mommy's awakening - which would lead to some really troubled time. Going out with Francis meant being treated for breakfast. Guess what I chose.

Without a word, I turned to reach for the clothes Alice had already selected for me, glared at her wink, ignored Daddy's blink and Francis stare at my butt, dashed outside the room and accepted the roses. The latter was so fucking embarassing, I tell you.

Pretending not to notice the grey sleep printed on my face, Francis dragged me out the hotel to a café in Rue Saint-Quelque-Chose. Do you think I'd taken everything with me? No, absolutely not! No mobile, no wallet, no money in my pockets! I was sleepy, embarassed, broke and away from my family. What if he tried to rape me?

Anyway. It happened that when we were about to sit down, the brunette behind the counter approached us claiming to be Francis' mother - a beautiful mother indeed. She recognised me, since I was "the guy with his son's guitar" and basically offered us breakfast. Yes, I had a tasty croissant and, please don't tell anyone, it was absolutely delicious. A caloric bomb, but delicious nonetheless. It seemed to me that she wished to have some kind of conversation -even if her English was quite poor-, but when she saw the roses, though, she raised her brows at Francis and disappeared in the kitchen. Francis said it was her way to express approval, something which slightly frightened me.

After having gulped down my second teacup, however, I felt no good at all. I needed some sleep, I desperately needed it. A yawn and the slimy bastard asked if I agreed in moving to his flat. Of course I did, I was dead tired! And so we did. We stood up, asked for a vase for the roses, howled a 'Thank you!' and climbed the stairs up to his flat. No need to say that as soon as we'd taked off our shoes, we headed to the bedroom. Alright, he was seriously trying his best to keep my mind occupied, but at a certain moment, I could follow him no longer. It was there when he softly proposed to lay down in his bed.

He lifted the sheets and patted the mattress invitingly, smiling at me with a malicious yet wickedly seducing smirk. I knew something terrible was bound to happen, but the slumber was weighing on my head and a comfortable bed was right there before me... How could I refuse such an invitation? Still completely dressed, I walked up to him and got into his bed. I actually expected him to tuck the blankets for me... Which he did not. Well, partly not. Before that, he glided himself under the sheets, pressing every single fiber of his body against mine. Don't get too excited, we did nothing. And by 'nothing' I mean we just cuddled. Not that I wanted to cuddle! Yet, the only place for my head was right on his chest, and there I placed it. Him... He just wrapped an arm around me and caressed my face, I think. I can't remember whether he said something before I fell asleep... I seriously couldn't grasp a thing, I swear. Yet, I'm glad nothing happened while I was snoring. Yes, I snored. Francis said I did... Just because I wasn't embarassed enough when I woke up.

You're surely dying to know how much awkward I felt right afterwards, don't you? You'll be surprised. When my eyes eventually busted open, Francis was still wriggled around me, with his nose well-dug in my hair. I think he likes my shampoo for some reason... Anyway. I had no idea of how late it was, but I distinctly remember I did not give a fuck about it. It's likely that I questioned myself about the current position of my family, but the perspective of a full-awaken Daddy was not good at all, so I kicked the thought out of my head before it became a worry and concentrated on the guy I was sleeping with. Kill me for the cheesy line, but he did look like an angel. Remember Gabriel, the archangel? The winged guy with blonde wavy hair we saw on the Art History book? The motherfucker than announced the arrival of Jesus? Yes, that bastard. You said it was surely a blonde, because only a blonde could believe the "virgin who has a baby"-thing. Francis was just like him, like an angel hugging me in his sleep.

I don't know how long we stayed like that in the shades, him breathing through against my skin and I stoking his hair, his face, his glistening stub. I really do not know how long I let my eyes dive into the details of his frame, or why I allowed my nose to get used to his scent of roses and mint, or why my teeth went on scratching my lips to keep my mouth in place. And worse of all, I don't care. Maybe it was all a dream... Maybe. Maybe, he was the first waking up - or maybe, he'd never gone to sleep at all and just waited for me to get back to my senses. Or maybe, the fumes that invade my memories are all true.

At some point in time, also his eyes slightly parted. "Hello..", that's what I said. And I was smiling -the softest smile I've ever EVER wore was right there, was only for him. Can you believe it? I stroked his cheek and waited, just freakin' waited for his shiny orbs to get used to the dim light pushing through the window into his eyes. I can't believe that for a moment I was afraid it might scar the blue dashes of his pupils. Blooming like a rose, so grew his tender sweet smile. "Hey..." His arm slightly pushed us closer, when he sighed to get more oxygen in his lungs before half-liddening his eyes lovingly. "There's your scent in my nostrils... I like it."

Now, that was one romantic quote there. And me? I just averted my eyes to avoid meeting his gaze. Is there anyone more stupid than me? Sure not, since with only a light pressure, he got my back to arch and there we were, looking into each other's soul-mirrors again. He was smiling, the bastard, while painting slow circles on my back. He was smiling, like he -like he really liked me.

I hate my heart. Seriously. I hate that bloody fist in the left side of my chest which always pumps faster at the wrong moment. It pumped, jumped, raced, till Francis' lips gently caressed my messy hair, my sweaty forehead, the red bridge of my nose, my scarlett cheek and then, again, my mouth. I swear on my head, I resisted. For only a few seconds, but I resisted. And not because I am that strong-willed, but because I've never wished I'd brushed my teeth so much. I was so afraid my breath was ghastly, that I did not let him slip in till I felt his wet tongue licking my upped lip. And there I fell.

Warmth, warmth was all over me. In my mouth, in my throat, down my spine, the was warmth in and between my legs. And there was lust, pure and ravenous desire. My finger quickly dug in his shirt, that in my mind I hoped would tore apart and expose his skin to my scratches. I wanted to push him into my body through our clothes, I wanted his back to rip under my nails, I wanted his blood to roll down my wrists, I wanted him onto me, into me, all over me.

When his hand slipped down my shirt, I fast opened my legs, I invited him in like a good mistress. I had no shame, no morals, nothing. I just craved for the love he was giving me so freely. He kissed my mouth, my face, my jaw, lavished my neck leaving bloody marks behind and travelled up to suck on my lobes till he heard me moaning. I was ready, I knew it - I was ready for him.

He lifted up my shirt, gliding down to ardently blow on my nipple. I'd already lost control, when his sucks started heating up my body even more - and his hand slided down to my hip. I needed it, I needed all the love, all the pleasure he could give, for being a virgin at 19 turns you into a needy bomb. And so, I spontaneously moved his hand between my tigh -and pressed it against the bulge in my pants.

I thought of Alfred. For real! I thought of him and wondered if I ever let me be touched by that ungrateful jerk. And you know the answer? No. No! I did not want that unexperienced child on me. It would be awkward, that's it. I needed some real action, some hot steam, some throaty moans and also some bleeding cuelty, that's what I needed. That's what Francis gave me.

Francis made me go beyond the innocence of a kiss -and it all seemed so natural, so spontaneous, so adult. He made me feel loved, but not in a childish, familiar way - he made me feel like a man. I shall be honest with you: I do not regret offering him my first orgasm. Not now, at least.

He was a true gentleman, by the way. He whispered some soft nonsense into my ears, reached for some tissues and offered me a couple. He opened a drawer and fished out some underwear to hand me, saying he would lend me some shirt of his. He reassured me about the time and about my family, suggesting I should call them with his phone only when I felt like it. And even though I did not care a damn about that all but the sweet nonsense, he cuddled me tenderly, spreading kisses all over my face.

I almost wished to marry him.

You now can imagine how it went. I eventually got up to take a leak and eventually decided it was time to call The Family. Mommy was fully awake and deep-friend in apprehension, Daddy was still horrified at the discovery that all the doubts he'd had were real, Alice was actually quite annoyed by my persistence on the face of Earth. The usual. Then, right when Mommy was ready to strike her best arrow, Francis grabbed the phone out of my hand and invited them all for dinner. His mother's café kept open till late at night and was actually a good place where to have something to eat. As you can imagine, when Mommy was said there would be 'His Parents' with us, she immediately accepted.

It was a quiet dinner. Ahah, I'm lying! It was surprisingly awkward and awfully fun at the same way. Daddy sat the furthest possible from me, who were the closest possible to Francis, who was right next to Alice. This means: Daddy was in front of me and wherever he looked, there was ME in his visual field. Brilliant, Mr. Kirkland, extraordinary brilliant. He put everything he could past him: wine bottles, glasses, toothpicks,.. At a certain point, I even thought he would blindfold him with the napkin and ask Mommy to feed him. While he was not particularly elegant, Mommy was... to her standards. Francis had to go and close himself in the bathroom for 10 bloody minutes to snicker in peace - not that I did not follow him. "I thought only showgirls owned such clothes!" Mommy was actually wearing a pompous and glittering red dress, something that could only suit Jessica Rabbit. Not that Mommy's not pretty,but... she's 40,damn it! She should wear clothes for people of her age! Yet, it seemed to me she was at ease, so... let's just skip to the part where she noticed Francis' hand on my tigh -and shrieked.

You know when a woman sees a mouse? That was her reaction. But she immediately recovered -for she is The Mommy - and pretended everything was okay, but to her that was actually not. It's not like my parents did not know I walked on the gay side of the street, but since I'd never brought anyone home, they believed I would eventually grow so discouraged, that in the end I would carry a nice girl to the altar -someone that my Mommy could cook with at Christmas and despise all the other days of the year. Francis... He was not in the plan. Fortunately, Alice played fair. She wasted no time in idiocies and spoke her mind then and there. She liked the Frog's charm, she believed he was quite clever, she admitted finding it nice of him to invite them all over to meet his parents, she thought his mother was a great cook and actually wished he could become her in-law, so she would get to come to France with me more often, for the place was way sunnier than England would ever be. Oh, Alice. How blunt can you be?

I think one of Daddy's veins exploded somewhere in his brain when Alice said "Brother-in-law", for he got all crimson red, choke on his white wine and coughed for 5 good minutes before getting back to breathing correctly again. In this all, Francis and I amused ourself greatly. We decided to trick them into believing we were actually in love - partly because we wanted to spice up the evening, partly because we're two fuckin' bastards who enjoy the look of horror on my Daddy's face.

By the way, Francis is a great orator. Despite the accent (I'll never EVER get over it!), he speaks English fluently and with a certain richness of vocabulary. He justified it by adimtting his love for Literature and the need to learn it for work, but I'm not completely convinced. I'll do some research. No, wait. I won't. At any rate, he trapped my parents with his cage of words -something I couldn't have done all alone. I think Daddy actually started liking him. As I told you, he said "Bright guy, that Francis. We should invite him over once at home.". That's an A+ on Daddy's rating scale.

Now, back to my problem. On this one side, there's my Prince Charming, Francis. I'm quite worried, because in a day I burned down the stages, in a day I let him do to me everything I've ever wished to be done - but I've always thought I would be given after 4 months of relationship. Still, he did not forced me down to anything - he just tried. I could've stopped him anytime, but no. No, I did what my heart, what my body wished to do. Before dinner, we had a long, long talk about me. That's right, ME. I explained to him how I felt towards Love, Sex, Life in general. It took me two hours, but he never refused to listen to me. I think I loved him. For those two hours, I loved him.

As I told you, I do not regret a thing. It must be because of that talk - we reasoned about what we had done like two adults, accepted it and decided there was nothing wrong with that. Francis has this incredible power within himself - the power to make me feel like a man whatever we do. Yet, we have a problem. He lives in France, while I'm an Englishman. It's not quite the same. Moreover, he's very different from me. I kinda have the feeling that we would quarrel about every single damn thing, the most banal included. I don't know why. Yet, he's like home to me. A home for my heart.

On the other side, back at home, we have Alfred. If I was a rational being, I would choose him. He lives pretty close to me, he's not the brightest crayon, but he's incredibly well-built, he comes from a good and wealthy family, he's kind-hearted and can get really serious when we're discussing something that he has close to his heart and I dare say that he's also quite reliable. We also share the same principles, which is something extremely significant for me. But if you ask whether I would go beyond the limit with him,... I can't even think about it.

Emotionally, irrationally, impulsively and also with a dash of self-destruction, I would choose Francis. Why? Because he gets me good, because it's a challenge to build a healthy relationship with him, because I like his clear cruelty, his daft bluntness, his simple brightness and I fuckin' adore his fragility. I know, I know too fucking well that someone like him will never ever be able to protect me, that he'll make me suffer to the point of bleeding, that every bloody decision will be a freakin' argument,... but we'll sign a treaty and move on. Alright, he also takes some meds for panic attacks, which actually scares me a bit, but that's not the point.

Still, it's already 1.48 am and I haven't made up my mind yet. Thanks to Mr. Someone in the sky, tomorrow I'll be seeing Francis again. I hope it'll all go well.

-End Day 5